


Lie Down With Me and Hold Me in Your Arms

by latinaeinstein (oneforyourfire)



Category: Block B
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 21:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16605728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/latinaeinstein
Summary: The three times Kyung falls asleep on Jiho





	Lie Down With Me and Hold Me in Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> 2013 original™

The first time is when they're 11, the first night of summer camp.

Jiho is awkwardly long-limbed, petulant and combative, with scabs on his elbows and knees from climbing trees and picking fights. Kyung is awkwardly small, sporting thick wire-rimmed glasses and a nervous smile, trying to collect enough memories and secrets to fill his composition book.

Jiho digs his thumb into his chest, presses it proudly and firmly to the Adidas logo on his shirt as he proclaims that he isn't sure what Kyung's heard (Kyung hasn't heard _anything_ ), but he's Jiseok's younger brother. Yeah, _that_ Jiseok. (Kyung doesn't know who that Jiseok is, either). And nobody's gonna mess with him. Not like last year. Because he's big now and he doesn't even cry anymore and because Jiho honestly doesn't give a _fuck._

Kyung doesn't want to give a fuck either, so he's more than eager when Jiho coaxes him into sneaking out after dinner—mediocre kimchi spaghetti that Kyung later thinks only tastes amazing because Kyung is eating something that isn't his mother's cooking for the first time—to wade in the lake behind the girls' cabins.

A thrill crawls up Kyung's spine as Jiho threads their fingers together, and they bound haphazardly, clumsily towards forbidden waters. They strip to just their tighty whities, pale legs glowing in the moonlight as they shiver in the too-cold water. Jiho tells him he has 30 girlfriends (one for every day of the month), but he's willing to lend Kyung a few if he asks nicely. And Kyung splashes him for being a liar.

Jiho asks him if he wants to be best friends after they sneak back, crawling into their adjacent bunks. And then insists that sometimes best friends hold each other at night and _no it's not a baby thing it doesn't mean he's started giving a fuck okay it just means that maybe you know it's kinda dark and like, best friend means he won't laugh or misinterpret it if Jiho needs somebody there just to remind him he can be okay, okay?_ Kyung tries not to laugh as Jiho clings tight, whispers something about how much fun he had _right_ against Kyung's collarbone. Kyung can feel every single muscle melt forth, Jiho slowly going lax in his arms. His sleep-deep breath tickles against Kyung's skin and the metal rod separating their beds digs into Kyung's hip, but he loops his arms around Jiho's waist, decides then and there that he really likes the idea of being Jiho's best friend. 

After that first night, Jiho stop pretending he doesn't give a fuck. Falls asleep _beside_ Kyung. And the two weeks disappear in a blur of macaroni picture frames, firefly chases, shitty food, whispered conversations, and campfire songs. Kyung earns a few more scratches on his sneakers, scabs of his own, and Jiho ruins his favorite pair of khakis with marshmallow stains.

Jiho cries really hard on the last day, and Kyung pretends not to notice even though some soaks into his shirt and Jiho shoulders tremble. He just hugs him tighter and pats his back, whispers he won't forget.

Kyung tucks Jiho's phone number and address into his pocket and squeezes his hand extra tight.

He waits until they get on their separate buses to cry, too. Kyung cries so hard that he has to take off his glasses and wipe his eyes with his shirt sleeve.

 

The second time is when they're both 16, in Kyung's room.

They've both lost the chubbiness in their cheeks, the awkwardness in their limbs, and five years have seen Starcraft tournaments, anime marathons, zombie flicks, telephoned heart-to-hearts, and drunken Saturdays like these, swaying slowly, rhythmlessly to the music  oozing out of Kyung's shitty speakers. When Jiho asks Jiseok— _that_ Jiseok, two years older, a good 5 centimeters taller, hyper indulgent, easy to bribe—to drive the 30 minutes to Kyung's house, where they promptly beg Kyung's sister to buy them beer. And sometimes Jiho asks to play a board game, and sometimes he invites Kyung's sister. And sometimes Jiho makes a pass at her, slurring a cheesy compliment, raising a cocky, charming eyebrow. And sometimes she makes casual remarks about how big and handsome Jiho is getting. And sometimes that makes something foreign stir in Kyung's chest.

But on the night of the second time, it's just the two of them, sitting cross-legged on Kyung's green carpet, knee to knee, heads bobbing awkwardly to the _filthy_ bassline. Jiho's in the middle of bragging about all the girls he has now at school. (Not 30, he's cut back, he's down to just one for every day of the week). And that's not even counting all the girls he's kissed. He's kissed _lots_ of girls. More than Kyung, for _sure_. (Kyung doesn't kiss girls). And everybody loves him, and it's really a shame that Kyung hasn't met any of his girlfriends, you know. But Jiho's breath kind of catches in his throat mid-boast, and he lifts a shaky beer can to his lips, kissing it dramatically. 

Suddenly, almost comically solemn, Jiho reaches out to anchor himself on Kyung's thigh as he asks if Kyung remembers how sometimes best friends hold each other at night and how they shouldn't misinterpret it or laugh because it's not a baby thing it just means that maybe sometimes people need to be held just to remember that they're okay and that's just what best friends do and Kyung is his best friend.

Kyung blinks blearily, nods slowly, and watches dimly as Jiho rises on shaky legs and stumbles towards Kyung's bed. He lands with a plop, and Kyung groans because Jiho is supposed to sleep on the floor if he's staying over. And they need to ask _permission._ There are _rules,_ even though his noona is usually pretty chill about these kinds of things. And morever, Kyung _hates_ the floor.

He bangs his music off, murmurs about how Jiho is an entitled ass, before Jiho whines for him to come over and sleep on the bed with him.

"Hold me, Kyung," he urges, reaching out for him. And yeah, he likes this compromise, at least.

And Kyung has a queen mattress, which means that Jiho doesn't need to be _right there_ , but it's exactly like when they were 11 because Jiho leaves no space, winds those long limbs tightly around Kyung's body. He buries his face into the crook of Kyung's neck, breathing sloppily. Jiho's like a second skin, and the planes of his body are harder, more solid, rippling underneath thick fabric as he shifts easily in sleep. And it's not exactly like when they were 11 because Kyung's heart rattles almost painfully in his chest.

Jiho murmurs against Kyung's neck, full lips teasing against sensitive skin, and Kyung thinks about kissing him. Kissing him hard and kissing him a lot. Kissing him until Jiho's lips are extra puffy, extra red. But he laughs instead, brushing the hair out of Jiho's damp forehead and kneeing him futilely before melting into Jiho's ever-persistent embrace.

 

The third time, the third time has Kyung, 21, exhaling shakily, nerve endings zapped to a pleasant haze.

They've been trying this _thing_ for 4 months—this  goose bump-inducing, dizzying, perfect, beautiful, beautiful thing—and Jiho is pressing him back into his mattress, _devouring_ him,  kissing him a lot, kissing him _hard_ , kissing him so that his lips are extra puffy and extra red. And Kyung is cupping Jiho's chin,  woozy, lightheaded, groaning with every smack of Jiho's lips, every glide of his tongue against Kyung's.

They've done this before. They've done this a lot. (Kyung is grateful for all those girls that Jiho is purported to have kissed, jealous, too. Because _fuck_ the way that Jiho molds his lips, the way he works his tongue, the way he licks his way into Kyung's mouth, stealing Kyung's breath away)

Jiho works eager, hungry fingers under Kyung's shirt and over his stomach, bunching fabric,  mouthing at Kyung's neck, and Kyung threads his fingers through his hair, hums his name. "Take this off," he urges, voice gruff, licking a stripe along Kyung's jawline, smirking as Kyung moans weakly, shivering as he complies. His lips latch onto Kyung's collarbone, and Kyung undulates helplessly. Bucking upwards, he can feel the ridge of Jiho's cock as it presses against his thigh. Jiho's low groan vibrates against his skin, as he shifts to press more fully against him.

And _fuck,_ the fucking friction.

They've done this before, too. But not nearly enough. Kyung doesn't think he'll ever have enough. Because, Jiho's _hard._. Kyung made him _hard._. So _hard_ , so fucking hard he can feel it fucking _pulsing_. And if he keeps grinding against him, if he reaches his hand down and _strokes_ Jiho, if he removes all the barriers and rubs their erections together, Jiho will _come._. And Kyung will have made him _come._. And Jiho will make those gorgeous broken sounds and moan _Kyung's_ name.

Kyung shoves Jiho's shoulder, rolls them over, kisses Jiho quiet. And he rests his weight on one forearm, knocking their foreheads together, panting against Jiho's mouth as he grinds down slowly. Eyes heavy-lidded, Kyung watches him unravel,  swiveling his hips, pressing down hard. Jiho surges upwards, hips desperate, whining brokenly. He digs his fingers into Kyung's biceps and wraps his thighs around him, urging him closer and harder and _more more more._

The pleasure is saturating Kyung's veins, slackening his jaw, straining his muscles

"Fuck me," Jiho breathes after one particularly fluid roll. His eyes are completely black, pupils blown wide, as they burn up at Kyung, and his lips look so fucking bruised as he licks them slowly and repeats himself lowly. "I want you to fuck me, Kyung."

They've never done that before. Not even once. And the thought of it has Kyung's throat going dry.

"Okay," Kyung agrees, voice trembling. "Okay."

Jiho's voice transforms from burning and seductive to nervous and shy as he motions to the night stand besides his bed, murmurs quickly about how it's all there, he just has to prepare them and then they can _you know_ <

"Were you…how long….?" Kyung asks, licking his lips nervously.

Jiho flushes, knocks his head against his chest to avoid Kyung's eyes as he strips. His skin is pale and smooth save for the dusty pink of his flushed cock, and _fuck_ , Kyung swallows hard as Jiho spreads his legs self-consciously.

Kyung stumbles back to him, strips naked, too, and ventures a soft hand to Jiho's cheek, coaxing him to meet Kyung's eyes. "Okay," he murmurs softly, and Jiho flushes again, eyelashes fluttering against Kyung's palm.

And Kyung's watched enough porn—more than enough—to know how this is supposed to work, but this is different. This is real. And this is terrifying.

Kyung kneels between Jiho's bent knees, offers him a shy, reassuring smile as he slicks his first finger, circles slowly before sliding in. And Kyung's watched more than enough porn, but Jiho is real and Jiho is uncomfortable and Jiho clenches and tenses and Kyung works in a second finger and Jiho is in _pain_ and Kyung is frustrated as he rubs fruitlessly in search of that special place that he knows will make Jiho fall apart his arms.

"Kiss me," Jiho whispers, eyes too bright, voice too shaky. But Kyung ignores him, opts for sucking Jiho's cock into his mouth, tonguing the sensitive head as he works another finger inside. Jiho moans loudly, dropping his head back, arching his spine, and when Kyung thrusts again, stroking delicately,  it provokes a surprisingly high-pitched whimper. And it has Jiho suddenly fucking back on Kyung's fingers.

"There?" he murmurs, lips skimming the head of Jiho's cock. He presses again for confirmation, and Jiho practically sobs. Smirking against the base of Jiho's erection, swirling his tongue, Kyung teases the spot until Jiho tugs at his hair, moans that he wants Kyung inside of him. Inside right now. Oh God, please Kyung. Please. I need it. Please

Kyung wipes his fingers against Jiho's comforters, chuckles softly as Jiho grimaces. Kissing Jiho lightly, he rolls the condom on, slicks himself, too before slowly slowly slowly sliding to the hilt. It's excruciatingly tight, excruciatingly warm, excruciatingly slick, and _oh oh oh oh oh oh oh_

Kyung's head lolls forward to press a distracted kiss to the side of Jiho's neck, breath escaping in a broken moan.

"Jiho," he groans, caressing his hip. "Baby….baby…are you okay?" Jiho nods slowly, eyebrows furrowed, licking his lips, swiveling his hips slightly, and Kyung's cock twitches at the velvet tug and the breathless sound he releases. "Jiho," he tries, fingers flitting over heated, pulsing flesh. "Do you want me to touch you?"

Jiho shakes his head idly. He tangles his fingers in Kyung's hair to tug him closer, force a messy kiss. "Move," he urges, lips ghosting over Kyung's. "I've been wanting you inside me for so long. Just. please. move."

Kyung whimpers, crashing their lips together once more as he surges forward

And it's not like porn, so it takes a while for them to figure it out, get the angles right, to fit together perfectly. But when they do, it's fucking _explosive_ and overwhelming and so fucking _real_. With Jiho panting into Kyung's neck, stroking himself so hard and so fast that Kyung can hear it past his broken moans, past the blood whooshing in his ears. With Kyung being enveloped in delicious, tight, tight, receptive heat. With pleasure so deep and hot it's a quake in his bones. With Jiho shifting minutely, sobbing for him to go faster, harder, right there, oh _God_ Kyung, right there. Please, fuck, please, don't fucking stop. Please, Kyung, _fuck_

Jiho comes first, scratching Kyung's back raw, moaning Kyung's name, painting their tummies with his release. And Kyung comes almost immediately after, biting down on Jiho's shoulder, quivering and sobbing through his climax

Kyung's entire body is burning, and Jiho's is completely boneless beneath him, face flushed, hair messy, breath dampening Jiho's black pillow case.

Skin drenched with perspiration, veins singing, Kyung's thrumming with sentimentality as he rolls onto his side, dragging Jiho's body flush with his. "Jiho," he rasps out, his fingers soft and hesitant on Jiho's cheek. "Jiho," he repeats, running his fingers through his hair. "Jiho, I love you."

Jiho's hair tickles against Kyung's chin as he hums back the same.

"Jiho," he starts again, kissing his hair. And he isn't even sure what he wants to say beyond maybe just how he wants Jiho to melt into him. Or how he wants to hold him all the time and not just when the latter is feeling vulnerable but _all the time_ because that's how puzzle pieces work. "Jiho…" he murmurs, shifting gingerly, cradling Jiho's head to his chest, sighing when he realizes that he's fallen asleep.

But Jiho makes this breathy sound, and his lips latch on Kyung's neck again. Absently, easily, like he recognizes even in sleep that that's where they belong.

Sleepily, Kyung snuggles into the warm, messy sheets and into the warm, messy man that already smell like home.


End file.
